Romancing a Wallflower

as if she were still in the schoolroom.
“Did you say something, my dear?” her mother inquired in a voice of dangerous calm.
Lydia sniggered from across the carriage. Their mother glared at her.
“Lydia, I find that a very ill-bred sound. I shall have to discuss with your father the advisability of restricting your visits to the stables.”
Lydia at once hung her head. “I am sorry, Mama. Please do not.”
“Very well. Now, Lilian, what have you to say for yourself? You were not, I think, brought up in a sty?”
“No, Mama, of course not. I merely cleared my throat, I promise you. I apologize.” It distressed her to discuss the matter any further. She knew better.
“Ah, the sun is making its final appearance, I see.” In a swift change of mien, the Countess smiled at both girls. “This will be a wonderful evening, my daughters. Your father will join us there. He may already be there, waiting on us, although Robert is not usually ahead of me.” Her mother smiled softly and then peered out of the window, still smiling. “We have always enjoyed these dances.”
Indeed, her parents always danced together, even though the ton considered such niceties unfashionable. They were magical to watch when they waltzed, never seeming to care who looked upon them. Her parents were a love match—a rarity in the ton—nonetheless, it was what they wanted for their children. It was what Lilian had wanted too, once upon a time, before her accident. She had dreamed of being whisked away by love. Now, it was more akin to torture to recall those dreams. Instead, she read novels, as many as she could, diving into the lives of the heroes and heroines and relishing their good fortunes. This dance promised to be torture too.
Lost in her thoughts, she almost did not notice the cabriolet pull up, or her brother join them within.
“Good evening, lovely ladies. My apologies, Mama.” Jonathan De Lacey dropped a kiss on his mother’s cheek and sat down next to her. “I had a small matter to tie up with Father’s man of business. It was important, or I would not have taken the time.” He placed his hat in his lap as he spoke and pulled on his gloves.
Jonathan’s affable nature always made her smile, Lilian mused. Always in a good mood, Jonathan invariably gave a warm smile, and offered to accompany his sisters on even the most mundane shopping trips.
An hour later, Lilian leaned back in a chair and fanned her face. The heat almost overwhelmed her. The ball was an absolute crush, even for those who, like her, sat by the wall. The hard-backed chair beneath her had already begun to fatigue her aching back. I wish Lydia had not insisted. I cannot dance, not in a wheel-chair. She glanced at her conveyance, placed discreetly behind a potted palm, a few chairs away. The pitying glances from the other mothers, and the hushed conversations of her childhood peers behind their fans, both upset and humiliated her.
Lilian watched her sister deftly handle the quadrille with a handsome blond soldier. Her mother was not likely to approve, but Lydia had a mind of her own, often seeing more of worth in a person than others did.
She laughed quietly to herself. That is why she was here, after all. Lydia had insisted she would meet the man of her dreams at a ball and had encouraged—no, forced—her to come to this ball. She heaved a sigh. Not one prince had acknowledged her, not that she had expected it.
A trickle of sweat ran down the front of her dress, while the cloying scents of competing perfumes abused her senses. Reaching into her reticule, Lilian withdrew her lace handkerchief and delicately touched it to her face, hoping the lilac cologne was still strong enough to last. She noticed many guests slipping out on to the veranda, which was the only place a little cool might be had and wished she might join them. A year ago, she had danced the quadrille until her feet blistered.

Chapter 2
She is here tonight! Lilian DeLacey. The beautiful young woman who had taken such a horrible spill from her horse a year ago, was here tonight. He would finally have a chance to meet her. He had inquired of her health each time he visited Lord Avalon, but it seemed both daughters had either been visiting with their mother or out shopping. This young lady had stolen his thoughts often over the past year, making him determined to meet her. If nothing else, it would put an end to the guilt he felt for her fall.
John Andrews, the fifth Earl of Harlow, sipped his champagne and studied the beauty across the ballroom. She looked a vision in the pink creation she wore. There had to be more to this picture, he reflected. It was not as if he could read women very well; however, he would not previously have pictured her as a wallflower. What, therefore, was she doing, sitting with the wallflowers? He looked around the room and spotted her sister on the dance floor with a fellow officer. Then he looked back at Lilian. Although she glanced at him, her eyes immediately darted away again. He followed her gaze to a table of potted ferns at the edge of the room and saw the object of her attention. A wheel-chair was just visible behind the fern.
“Can it be true?” he whispered to himself, feeling a mixture of surprise and sadness. Wheel-chairs were monstrous things. He remembered his grandfather had used one and they had not changed much since then. Lord Avalon would only say that his daughter had recovered as much as seemed possible. He had had no idea her recovery included that grotesque chair. A pang of sorrow gripped his heart. Why did she affect him so?
Harlow’s gaze returned to her. A year ago, he and his best friend, Maxwell Wilde, the Earl of Worsley, had secured permission